


Pearl Of Wisdom

by Kissy



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Multi, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2012-09-16
Packaged: 2017-11-14 09:10:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissy/pseuds/Kissy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to the Pearl: where you can get a cheap pint of grog, a cheaper companion, and where you can find Isabela for...instruction. Here's what happens after the fade-to-black, when Elissa offer herself to Isabela and Alistair tags along.  Mature tags are up for sexuality and adult themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pearl Of Wisdom

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS AND DISCLAIMERS: I do not own Dragon Age, its characters, EA Games, or Bioware. Bioware: helping dorks nationwide get laid, since 2009! 
> 
> A/N: Am I the only one out there that laughed her ass off when my PC finally got to bang Alistair? Since when do twenty-something virgins know how to be good in the sack, let alone know where to stick it? This plot bunny came to me when Default Cousland (AKA Elissa) met Isabela in the Pearl, persuaded the fair sea-dog into bed, and convinced her dorky love interest to join in on the action. It’s the only thing I can think of that explains the whole ‘virginal sex-god’ plot-hole. I also culled a little bit of dialogue directly from the game, to lend a bit of authenticity to the scene I wrote. Enjoy!

Elissa sat on the steps of the Denerim Chantry with Morrigan, and watched her sweetheart from the corner of her eye. He spoke to the Templars that guarded the Chantry’s wide double-doors. She looked over her shoulder at Alistair, and frowned. 

For the very life of her, Elissa could not understand Alistair, or what caused him to say or do the things he did. They had just recently begun a relationship, and it was clear to Elissa that Alistair was taken with her. She and he had explored every facet of their new relationship, from one end to the other...or so she thought. 

They got to know one another. They’d protected each other in battle, and watched each other’s back. They spent countless hours talking before the great bonfire in their camp. They’d held each other close in secret, stole kisses when they thought no one else had seen, even pressed their bodies against each other as their hands groped and fondled. There was very little they had _not_ done together…

Except for that one small thing. Lately, Elissa felt as if she was ready to explode every time Alistair wandered near. Last week, Elissa had accosted Alistair, and asked if he would join her in her tent.

Alistair turned Elissa down, after everything they had experienced together. Maddening!

On the steps of the Chantry, Elissa ground her teeth. She was sure Alistair would jump at the chance to bed her. But he turned her down, and gave a limping excuse for not doing the deed. 

Elissa heard heavy footsteps behind her. She glanced up at Alistair as he approached. He sat down beside Elissa, and sighed.

“What is it?” She took his hand. “You look terrible.”

Alistair inclined his head at the two Templars at the door. “The older Templar is Lyrium-addled. He will not – _can_ not – retire from the Templars, because he fears delirium tremens from withdrawal.” Alistair shuddered. “I could have been like that, had I not joined the Grey Wardens…I could have been just another aging Templar addicted to poison.”

“Thank the Maker you are not,” said Elissa warmly. “We would never have met, if Duncan hadn’t recruited you.” 

“As always, Darling,” said Alistair, as he touched his forehead to Elissa’s, “you are right.”

“Sickening,” said Morrigan. “Would you two _stop_ , please?”

Zevran took that opportunity to walk around the corner of the Chantry. “You ought to see this…there’s a well back here that smells like something died in it.” He shook his head. “I also could have sworn I saw a booted foot floating in the water, but…why would anyone dump a body in such a conspicuous place?”

“No idea,” said Elissa quickly. The less that was said about _that_ , the better. “Where to, now?”

“ _The Wonders of Thedas_ ,” said Morrigan straightaway. “I heard the Old Lady speak of it, and it sounds divine. If Wynne is piddling her granny drawers over such a place, I’d like to see it firsthand…and before she gets the chance to buy all the Lyrium.”

“All right,” said Elissa. She stood, and held her hand out to Alistair. “Shall we?”

“Of course, my dear,” he replied. They walked that way, hand in hand, down the main avenue of the city – all the while, Morrigan scoffed as Zev snorted laughter.

Perhaps a five-minute walk from the magic shop, Elissa overheard a man’s voice, chiding someone. She and her friends turned, and saw a man bawl and gesticulate wildly at a group of young men. 

“Can’t you morons do _anything_ right? I told you to drum the miscreants out of the Pearl, not run screaming the second one of you started bleeding!” The older man raised his hands to his head. As Elissa and her crew approached, the man dispersed his ragtag group. “Get out of my sight, the lot of you.”

The man sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair. “Idiots,” he muttered to himself.

“Everything all right?” Elissa said in greeting. 

“Fine, fine,” said the man, who led the Militia according to the insignia he wore. “It’s these misfits I have to deal with. They’re all nobles’ sons, looking for a bit of fun to give their empty lives meaning.”

“Leader of the Militia, are you?” Alistair gestured to the retreating backs of the recruits. “Are you having problems with your own crew?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” He touched his fingers to his throat. “I’m Keylon, sergeant of the Militia around here. You’re the Grey Wardens everyone’s been babbling about, aren’t you?”

“Word travels fast,” said Zevran. “It’s a good thing no one in the city is looking to put our heads on plates.”

“Sarcasm becomes you, elf,” deadpanned Morrigan.

“So,” said Elissa, as she motioned in the direction the Militia recruits went, “what’s going on that even the inbred gentry can’t handle?”

Keylon snorted. “There’s a mercenary group in one of the local whorehouses that’s stirring up trouble. You know how it is – drunk and disorderly, vandalism, agitating the populace – same old, same old. I need them to disappear.”

“We can help you, if you like,” said Elissa.

Morrigan, beyond annoyance, cleared her throat noisily. “Another helping hand, Elissa?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “They say the Maker put us here on Thedas to accomplish a certain number of things. Right now we’re so far behind, we’re _never_ going to die.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Zevran. “I see no problem lending a hand, as long as the price is right…” He looked at Keylon meaningfully. “Right?”

Keylon shrugged. “Of course. All of our militiamen are paid handsomely for their work. Why would it be otherwise?”

“I’m convinced,” said Zev complacently. “To the Pearl, then.”

“ _Tch_ , fine,” said Morrigan. “I suppose _The Wonders of Thedas_ will have to wait. Lead on, Fearless Leader.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

The Pearl was a rather nice establishment, as brothels went. It was clean, well lit, and relatively vermin free…if you didn’t count the two-legged variety. The Wardens stood just inside the ornate gilded doors, and took in their surroundings.

Alistair scratched his bewhiskered chin, as his mouth quirked on one side. “I wonder why it’s called a ‘brothel’, when there’s no broth involved. Or is there?”

“My dear Alistair,” said Zevran, “you could get whatever you want in a place like this. All you need to do is ask.”

“Ugh,” said Morrigan, grimacing. “Does that include syphilis?”

Alistair’s ears turned pink, as his fellow Warden glanced about the Pearl in approval. “Nice,” said Elissa. “I guess the owner knows how to make his patrons feel at home.”

“I do try,” said a lilting, feminine voice. To the party’s right, a slight woman approached them, and held her hands out warmly to Elissa. 

Flabbergasted into clasping hands with the brothel’s owner, Elissa glanced, bemused, at her paramour. “Hello,” said Elissa to the Pearl’s proprietor, as Alistair spread his hands in confusion.

“I am Sanga. Welcome to the Pearl!” The woman squeezed Elissa’s fingers lightly before she dropped them. “You’re here to deal with the ruffians out back, yes?”

“Yes,” said Elissa. “We were sent by Sergeant Keylon.”

Sanga nodded. “Good. They’re there, in the corner salon.” She gestured to a cluster of overturned tables and chairs. “They’re causing some of my patrons grief. Get rid of them, will you…and, can you just drum them out without too much of a fight? Blood is so hard to wash out of silk rugs.”

Zevran made a noise of disappointment in his throat, as Alistair said, “Fine. We’ll take care of this with no bloodshed.”

“Too bad,” said Morrigan, as she shouldered her staff. “I hoped to get a tiny bit of exercise today.”

They made their way to the back of the establishment. A group of mercenaries were terrorizing some brothel regulars. Elissa pushed her way through the throng that had gathered to watch. “You,” she said, pointing to what appeared to be the gang’s leader. “You aren’t welcome here. Piss off.”

The besotted mercenary’s eyebrows shot to his receding hairline. “You’ve _got_ to be buggering me. I’m a veteran of the White Falcons, y’see. I’m a big damned deal ‘round these parts, I am. Who the hell’re _you?_ Part of the double-cursed Militia, are ya?”

Elissa unsheathed her sword. “I’m called the Reaper, actually. Want to be next on my list?”

The mercenary quailed from the diminutive ‘Reaper’. “It’s a fine how-do-you-do when a respectable gent can’t come to a whorehouse for a drink and some fun, without bein’ harassed by the local Goon squad.” He motioned to his men. “There ain’t nothin’ on Thedas worth getting’ killed for. Lads! Let’s move out!”

The White Falcons, all in various states of inebriation, staggered out of the Pearl. Sanga watched them go, and clapped her hands merrily. She approached the Warden and her crew, her arms spread wide. “My thanks for showing those ruffians out, all without destroying my antique vases and tapestries. Whatever you need, we will provide. What’s your pleasure?”

“I…erm, nothing right now,” said Elissa. She crimsoned. “When I need something, I’ll let you know.”

Sanga tilted her head to one side, appraising Elissa. “Hmm…you strike me as the kind of woman that appreciates the big bodied, muscular type. It’s comforting when strong, capable arms gather you close…you like _that_ , yes?” She glanced at Alistair askance, and grinned when the burly knight found the far wall much more interesting than the present conversation. Sanga nodded to herself, humming in admiration. “Yes, I do believe so.”

In spite of herself, Elissa returned Sanga’s warmth. “If that’s what you think, you’d be right.”

The woman nodded cordially. “I usually am.” With a bow, she turned to her coat-check. Over her shoulder, she said, “Call on me if you need anything.”

Elissa sidled closer to Alistair. She whispered in his ear, “Maybe we can ask Madame Sanga if we could use one of the rooms for an hour or so.”

Alistair shivered as a goofy grin creased his chops. “Daring…I like that,” he said. Oh, but he loved it when their conversation turned risqué. “This isn’t exactly the place I’d pick for our first night together, but it has its advantages.”

“ _Hunh,_ ” scoffed Morrigan. “If you insist on talking dirty, please do lower your voice. _Hurk_ ,” she finished, as she turned an interesting shade of green. “I think I just vomited in my mouth.”

Alistair made a shooing gesture with his hands. “Ignore her…she knows nothing of saucy banter.” 

Without preamble, a dagger sliced through the air, and whickered suddenly past Alistair’s right ear. It buried itself nearly to the hilt in a beam ten feet behind his head. Elissa and her comrades blinked once in amazement, as Alistair looked first to the beam, then to the origin of the blade. He lifted his finger slightly, and pointed to the far corner of the sitting room. “What on Thedas is going on?”

Elissa glanced in the direction of his motion. An older woman danced on her toes, weaving to and fro, swishing her rapier with deadly precision. Her would-be attackers fell, one by one, until none remained standing. The woman grinned impishly at her sparring partners, and waggled her fingers at their semiconscious forms. “Come see me if you want another solid beating. Your gold is _much_ appreciated,” she said.

“Amazing,” said Alistair. “She’s as fast as lightning.”

Zevran smiled without much humor. “Isabela,” he said. 

As the woman’s ‘sparring partners’ picked themselves off the floor and limped, defeated, out of the Pearl, Elissa shrugged. “Who?”

“She,” said the tow-headed elf, inclining his chin at the finely-dressed ruffian, “is a sea-captain of great renown, Captain of _The Siren's Call_. She is Queen of the Eastern Seas, and the sharpest blade in Llomerryn." He winked at Elissa. "What you just witnessed wasn’t half as fast as I’ve seen her fight.”

“How do you know her?”

Zevran spread his hands. “I assassinated her husband.”

“Ah.” Morrigan nodded in approval. “So I take it you and Isabela are old friends.”

“Anyone that would have offed the greasy bastard I married would have become my _best_ friend, Darling,” said the woman. She approached the four adventurers leisurely. “Zev...nice to see you."

Zevran gave Isabela a half-bow, smirking. "As always, dear Lady, it is a distinct pleasure."

Isabela pushed her hair off her temples. "So…what can I do for you little ones?”

“What you just did…it was impressive. Can you teach me to do that?” Elissa was fairly salivating. “You are an incredible fighter.”

Isabela waggled her finger. “Uh-uh…I’m a duelist.”

Alistair shrugged. “What’s the difference?”

The Captain’s eyes sparkled. “The difference, young man, is a fighter can use brute force to whittle their enemies down. But a duelist…well…that’s a horse of another color. A duelist is trained to be quick, precise in striking, deadly in aim. They are instinctively aware that battle is a dance between foes, as much as sex is a dance between lovers.” She shook her head at Elissa. “Sorry, sweet thing. I’m flattered, but I won’t teach you anything.”

Her words were barbs, meant to sting. Elissa crossed her arms over her chest. “Why not?”

“I’ve had my eye on you since you arrived in Denerim,” said Isabela. “My men and I have watched you and your friends battle the seedy underground…and to be honest, it’s like watching nugs wrestle in mud. You have the grace of a dying cow.”

Elissa’s cheeks puffed in rage. “Well, I _never!_ ”

A deck of cards materialized in Isabela’s hands, as she turned her back to a madly blushing Elissa. Zevran noticed the ancient deck, and stiffened slightly. He drew Elissa aside, and jerked his head at the deck. “Take heart. She wants to teach you, but she’ll ask you to play…to ‘get to know you’. Don’t do it. She’s a cheater.”

As if she didn’t hear their nearly-silent palaver, Isabela calmly shuffled the deck of cards. “Shall we play a round of Wicked Grace?”

“I’d rather not,” said Elissa. “I was never very good at cards.”

“Well,” said Isabela, “I can’t very well take on a ‘prentice, if I do not know their strengths and weaknesses. How would I know whether I’m taking on a graceless dolt or not?”

Bristling, Elissa tapped her foot. “Is there anything… _else_ …you would take as payment for your services, then?”

Isabela pursed her full lips, pondering Elissa’s loaded remark. “What have you in mind?”

In the silence that followed, Morrigan looked aghast. “You’re _seriously_ not considering…”

The Warden took a deep breath, and blurted, “Care for a bit of sport?”

A small sound of disbelief escaped from Alistair’s slack mouth. “You said _what?_ ”

Isabela blinked at Elissa, as her eyebrows vaulted to her hairline. “Sport, you say?”

Zevran’s tongue peeked out from behind his full upper lip. “Oh, my,” he purred. “My dear Warden has become utterly _fearless_.” He smiled at Alistair. “Are you certain you don’t want to share?”

“Undoubtedly,” said Alistair through grated teeth.

“Shame,” said Zevran. “You and me and she would have the most wonderful times together.” He ran his eyes over Alistair. “There is far too much of you for just one person.”

“Zev,” said Elissa, “stop teasing him.” She smirked at the rogue. “Be nice.”

Hurried footsteps caught everyone’s attention, as Morrigan beat a hasty retreat to the Pearl’s door. “I’m going to _The Wonders of Thedas_ , if anyone cares,” she said over her shoulder. Morrigan looked pointedly at Elissa, and made a _moue_. “Do me a small favor, before you come to collect me. Be sure to rinse off the stench, after you’re done rolling in the gutter.” She disappeared through the doorway, and slammed the door shut behind her.

“Touchy, isn’t she?” Zev shrugged, and turned to Elissa. _Sotto voce_ , he said to her: “Do not make idle promises to Isabela. She’ll make you regret it.”

“Oh, I don’t think she was toying with me…were you, Sweetness?” Isabela winked at Elissa. “You are interested in – erm, _learning_ , are you not?”

Well, now. Elissa pursed her lips, considering her options. She never had any desire to bed a woman before, true…but Isabela was game. And Elissa was always up for adventure. She certainly considered _this_ adventurous, at any rate. “As long as you're willing to... _teach_ me.”

“Oh-ho. You’ve surely piqued my interest _now_ , girl.” Isabela put her hands on her hips, her arms akimbo. “’Twould be rather rude for me to refuse such a delicious request. My quarters aboard my ship are much nicer than the accommodations here. If you’re truly interested…”

Zevran drew himself to his full height, and was ready to offer his services, when he was interrupted by the most unlikely of voices. “Wait.”

Elissa glanced at Alistair, and instantly felt bad for making the offer in the first place. Alistair looked awkward and embarrassed. “Yes? What is it, Alistair?”

He squirmed slightly under his armor. “Are you suggesting…I mean… _wow_. And here I am, awake and everything,” he stammered. Alistair gazed at his Elissa, his heart in his eyes. “Are you sure about this?”

Isabela brightened. “Ah! Does this bruce wish to join us?” She reached out, and touched one of Alistair’s biceps. “Your friend is feeling left out, I see. There’s always room for one more.”

Alistair had every reason to protest. He hadn’t told Elissa yet. He hadn’t told Elissa that he was in love with her. He wasn’t sure – one hundred percent sure – of it himself, but it was close. She and he had shared many things, but they had not partaken in what Elissa asked of Isabela. What Elissa had proposed to this stranger made all that they had shared seem flimsy, insubstantial. The very notion of his Elissa… _alone_ …with this woman made Alistair feel slightly ill. 

He knew he had no real hold on Elissa yet. Alistair didn’t think he needed to stake claim on her, so she and he had not pledged themselves to each other. Despite that, they spent plenty of time alone, when they and their comrades made camp for the night. Sometimes, when they would walk away from camp to steal a few moments alone together, Alistair desperately wished for the courage to ask Elissa to join him in his tent. 

It was on those nights when they disappeared into the woods, that Elissa would kiss him and hold him and touch him until he could hardly breathe. There was always a tree handy in the woods to lean his girl against; it made it easier for Alistair to grind himself against Elissa’s soft, supple body. On more than one occasion, he nearly humiliated himself by tripping the light fantastic on Elissa for a little too long. He would catch himself in time, thank the Maker…and then they would return to camp, hand-in-hand; on those occasions, Alistair was thankful that his breech-clout was strung on extra tight.

Until it came time to go to sleep, that was. He would curse himself for being a coward, even as he lay naked and shivering in the privacy of his tent. Alistair would lie there during the quietus of midnight, just before the darkness died and the morning came forth anew. He would gasp and tremble and pretend that it was she that held him, throbbing, in her hand, and not himself; Alistair would pretend that his Elissa knelt between his legs and ran her nimble pink tongue along him, as he climaxed alone. 

Now, Alistair took a hasty step back from Isabela. “Hel- _lo!_ Boundaries!” He shot Elissa a panicked glance. “Are you sure you really want to…you know?”

“Why not?” Elissa grinned. “It’ll be interesting, for the both of us. Do you want to join me?”

Maker, did he ever. Alistair pondered this new turn of events with a heady mix of excitement and terror. He shook his head, and spoke to no one in particular. “Interesting, she says – like it was a good book or maybe a delightful pastry.” He gave Elissa one last once-over, and grinned his acquiescence. “Well, I’ll say it…I’m a weak, weak man. I guess I’ll have to play along.”

Zevran laced his fingers behind his head. He knew how Elissa and Alistair felt about each other, and he wasn’t one to step in between burgeoning love…such as it was. “Have fun, you two,” he said to his comrades. “I think I’ll seek out Sanga, and sample her wares here. There was a tasty elf in her employ that looked absolutely delectable.” He waved once, and turned on his heel.

“Come,” said Isabela. “Let’s retire to my ship. I’m sure you’ll find my quarters to your liking.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

Alistair took a deep, shuddering breath, as he pulled his jerkin over his head. Isabela watched, and he _really_ didn’t like the way she looked at him – like she was going to eat him alive. Isabela walked to Alistair, and drew her hand down his bare chest.

“Oh, you’re a lovely man, you are,” said she. She played with the curly tuft of ginger hair that sat over his breastbone. “Such a fine, strong chest.”

“Glad you like it,” said Alistair. He puffed his chest out as a bantam rooster would. “The rest of me isn’t too shabby, either.”

“How sweet. He covers his fear with bravado. Endearing.” Isabela eyed Alistair critically. “I cannot teach you the ways of the Duelist. You’re more brawn than brains, I’m afraid.”

The half-smile that graced his visage disappeared, as quickly as if Isabela had slapped it off. “Thanks ever so much,” said Alistair sarcastically. “You really know how to make a gent feel like solid gold.”

“ _Tch_. You didn’t let me finish. You, my fine young friend, need schooling of a different sort.” She glanced over her shoulder at Elissa. “You, as well. Frankly, I’m thrilled at the prospect. Are you ready?”

Alistair looked in the direction of Isabela’s query, and sighed lustfully when he caught sight of his Elissa. She lounged on Isabela’s bed, and wore nothing more than her man-cut sark. Normally it hung to just below her knees; now, she had ruckled it to mid-thigh. She caught Alistair’s eyes, and hiked her shirt up an inch, then two, then three…all the while favoring her man with a peaches-and-cream smile that made Alistair’s knees watery.

“It seems like you are. Shall we?” Isabela untied the sash of her smoking jacket, and let the garment slither off her shoulders and puddle at her feet. She wore nothing underneath, and if Little Alistair had any trouble coming to attention before, it surely didn’t now. Isabela might have indeed been older than Elissa and Alistair, but her body belied that fact. She was perfection in form and substance; her body was in top form, her muscles taut, her limbs sleek.

Isabela walked with slow grace. She approached Alistair, and hooked her fingers in his fly. “Would you like to untie this, or do you need my help?”

“No need,” Alistair said, and pulled the knot free. His trousers slid to the floor. 

Isabela’s eyes glowed when she beheld him. “Now _that’s_ lovely.” She took Alistair’s hand, and led him to the bed – to Elissa. “It’s nice to bed a man with muscle in all the right places. Now, lie down.”

Alistair did as he was told. Elissa shimmied her body closer to Alistair’s. He drew Elissa close, and kissed her. She seized the hem of her sark, and made to pull it over her head, but Isabela stopped her with a curt movement of her hand.

“No,” she said. “You learn how to play with him…learn how to please him, first. Once you find out what stokes his fire, you’ll have a very happy bruce that’ll do whatever you ask of him. In the meantime, you watch, and you learn. Have fun with each other _after_ you figure out what makes him tick.”

“But…” began Elissa, when she was cut short by Isabela once again.

“Relax,” said the Captain, “you’ll get your jollies off, surely. This one needs to learn what makes _you_ tick, and I aim to instruct him.” Isabela playfully touched Alistair’s knee, and he jumped with a snort.

“I’m ticklish…cut that out,” he said, still laughing.

Nimble fingers ran up Alistair’s leg, and feather-brushed his belly. His muscles twitched under his skin, every time Isabela found another delicate spot. “ _Really_ , now. And where _else_ do we find our little man ticklish?”

Despite not being allowed to join in on the festivities, Elissa found great enjoyment in this. She cocked her elbow on her pillow, and dropped her cheek in the cup of her palm. She could not help but smile every time Alistair snorted choked laughter, as Isabela found another spot that caused a thrill to vibrate across his skin.

Isabela suddenly leaned forward on hands and knees, and delicately inserted her tongue into the cup of his navel. She drew the tip down the fine line of auburn hair between his belly-button and his unmentionables. Elissa ought to have felt jealous of Isabela then, but she did not – rather, she felt a thrill of her own race down her spine when it was evident the lesson was about to begin.

Alistair gasped. “I…what are you…”

“Hush,” said Isabela, and her breath raised goosebumps on his exposed skin. “Most men would give their left bollock for this, so don’t queer the pitch and push me off.” 

“I wouldn’t _dream_ of it,” Alistair gasped.

“Men like this, do they?” Elissa reached out, and tucked an errant strand of Isabela’s hair behind her ear. 

She glanced at Elissa, twinkling at the show of affection from her student. “You have no idea how much they like this, sister. You’ll have him eating out of your palm if he gets _this_ regularly. It’s all a question of how you do it – and the trick is to figure out what he needs. Some men like it gentle…some men like it rough. Some men blast off the second you breathe on them,” said she, as she ran her fingers down his length, “and with some men, your jaw goes numb.”

“I take it most men want this to last as long as possible,” said Elissa. She touched her forehead to Alistair’s. Hectic patches of blood flushed his face, and his breath became ragged. Alistair gazed upon Elissa’s much-loved visage, and drew his fingers through her hair.

“You’d be right,” said Isabela. She tucked her lithe body between Alistair’s knees. “Were I you, sweet thing, I would learn to enjoy this as much as your man does. _I_ do.”

She began. Alistair bent his body into a mild arc. When he settled back to the mattress, he gasped once. “Maker,” said he, “this…this is…”

Elissa ran her fingers through his cropped hair. “Would you like anything from me?”

“I…” he began. He grunted once, as Isabela found a particularly tender spot. Alistair locked eyes with Elissa before he seized the hem of her sark and tore it over her head. Alistair wound his arms around Elissa’s waist, drawing her close. He dipped his head to her breast.

Reveling in the scent of her warm skin, Alistair couldn’t help but draw his heart’s blood closer. With one arm around Elissa’s slim waist and one hand caressing Isabela’s hair, he kissed his Elissa deeply and let everything around him fade to black. All that was left was pure sensation and his beating heart and Elissa.

And then, nothing – Isabela released him, and drew away. She lay down on the bed next to him, and simpered at Alistair as his cock throbbed indignantly. He raised his body on his elbows, and stared at Isabela. “Hey! What in the _world_ …”

“It’s your sheila’s turn, Sweets,” said Isabela. She crawled over his body, and squeezed herself between Elissa and Alistair. Isabela pressed her body against her student's, and ran her hands over the Warden’s peerless skin. “I can’t _wait_ to see what this one is like.”

“ _Tcha._ No fair,” said Alistair. He crossed his arms and thumped to his back on the mattress. “What do I do about _this?_ ” He closed his eyes, annoyed at the unexpected turn of events, and motioned to his still-complaining, still fully erect willy.

Isabela had begun to kiss the delicate skin just below Elissa’s belly, when she glanced up at Alistair. “Shouldn’t you pay attention to your lesson, sweetheart? Your woman will be your slave for all eternity if you master this, so attend!” Isabela smiled like a cat that had gotten into the cream, and bent her head to her task once again. She had Elissa panting and groaning in moments.

Oh, it was almost too much for Alistair. His eyebrows drew together distractedly as his hands crept lower, aching to seize that which throbbed and swelled. He knew just exactly what to do to bring his own sweet death about. One knows their body best, yes? He curled his hand around himself, drew shaking fingers along his member, and shuddered on the razor’s edge. Alistair opened his eyes and watched the women and felt release approach on raven’s wings.

There was his darling, in the embrace of an illustrious (and beautiful) sea-captain. It was luscious to watch Elissa thrash and moan and quiver under Isabela’s ministrations, but something didn’t taste right. Alistair blinked once, frowning at Isabela. Was it just him, or did the Captain’s smile seem as ersatz as powdered eggs? “You’ve taken on the role of teacher, have you? Is that just an excuse to have control of the situation, Isabela?” He released himself.

The older woman raised her head again, earning a sound of irritation from Elissa. Isabela shrugged innocently. “And what of it? I like my partners to be skilled, for certain. Do you think you can be a good lover fresh out of the gate, without my instruction?” Isabela rolled her eyes when her answer came from Alistair’s embarrassed, flushed face. “I’m sure. Do whatever you want with yourself. I’ll busy myself with the girl.” She knelt between Elissa’s thighs. She dipped her tongue into Elissa, and the corners of Isabela’s mouth curled when she glanced at Alistair askance.

Furious with Isabela, Alistair surged to his knees. He crawled behind Isabela and seized her hips, his fingers digging deeply into her supple skin. Alistair lifted Isabela easily, and with one quick movement, buried himself to the root in her. Isabela squeaked once in surprise. Isabela gasped as every muscle in her body tightened at once; she whipped her head around and beheld Alistair over her shoulder. 

“You told me to do whatever I wanted, didn’t you… _teacher?_ ” Alistair’s tongue darted out and ran across his upper lip. He thrust his hips forward. “Does this count?”

Isabela arched her back. “ _Unh!_ I’d s-say. It took you long enough, Little Man.” 

Alistair grinned savagely at his ‘teacher’, then gazed over her head at his love, his Elissa. She caught his eyes, held them firmly with her own. “Aah…Alistair!” said Elissa. Her words were susurrant, breathless. She held her hand out for Alistair; he seized it, and leaned forward to mash her fingers to his lips.

“We…after this, there’ll be no one but you,” Alistair said, as he set a slow, languorous pace. As Isabela sighed with pleasure beneath him, he swallowed heavily. “Elissa…it’ll be you and no other. I pledge myself to you.”

Elissa nodded once, as sweetness like she had never felt began to spiral through her belly. “And I you!”

The lovebirds were shaken from their reverie by a world-weary, amused voice. “How sweet,” gasped Isabela. “I’m glad to see that you’ve finally found your bollocks, Alistair. Now, if the ‘learning’ part is over and done with, we can all relax and have some _real_ fun.” 

-=-=-=-=-=-

Heavy rain began to fall, as they left Isabela’s ship. Isabela had errands to run, so she announced that she’d meet her new student at the Pearl in one hour. “Be ready for your dueling lesson, Sweetheart,” she had called over her shoulder.

As Alistair and Elissa walked through the narrow alleyways to the Pearl, a heavy silence descended upon the pair. They trudged side by side through the dreary afternoon, not touching each other once. Elissa glanced at Alistair through the corner of her eye. He walked stoically through the mud-puddles, his eyes never leaving his boot-tops. She twisted her lips wryly, and wondered if she had done him a terrible injustice by inviting Isabela to their bed – for Alistair’s _deflowering_ , no less.

Elissa cleared her throat. “Alistair? Are you angry with me?”

His gait slowed. Alistair looked askance at Elissa. “I’m not… _angry_ , not really. I’m disappointed.” He came to a standstill, and cocked his head at Elissa. He mopped at his soaked, streaming face, and made an annoyed _moue_. “I expected our first time to be…I don’t know, _special._ ” Alistair narrowed his eyes at his heart’s blood, and Elissa’s belly did a frantic loop-the-loop. “I don’t consider sharing you with another woman particularly extraordinary. You didn’t think of the circumstances, did you, when you offered yourself to Isabela?”

“No,” Elissa said, deflated. “I’m sorry, Alistair. I’ve ruined something very special for you. You have every right to be angry at me.”

A powerful, scarred hand engulfed hers. “I told you,” said Alistair, as he wound his fingers in hers, “I’m not angry, just disappointed.” He squeezed Elissa’s hand, and they began to walk to the Pearl again. “Life is full of disappointments. I’ll get over it. And for the record, you didn’t ‘ruin’ anything. I had a lot of fun. Now let’s get indoors before we melt away to nothing in this double-cursed rain.”

-=-=-=-=-=-

One half hour later, Alistair and Elissa filed into the Pearl during its busy rush. They wound their way through throngs of drunken patrons and world-weary, sodden prostitutes and burly bouncers to arrive at Isabela’s private booth. 

They found Isabela seated behind her card table. Alistair dropped to a chaise placed catty-corner to Isabela, and Elissa settled herself between his thighs. She pressed her back to Alistair’s belly, and he wrapped his arms around Elissa’s waist and drew her close. They gazed at Isabela expectantly. 

Isabela grinned at the pair. “Elissa, would you consider leaving Alistair with me – or, I don’t know, let me borrow him for a week this summer? Perhaps you’d _both_ like to come to my estate for a month? The two of you are so delightful.”

“As fascinating as being ‘borrowed’ sounds,” said Alistair, “we have a Blight to deal with. The Archdemon won’t wait for holidays and all that. If we don’t take care of the Darkspawn, there might not _be_ a summer.”

Isabela made a sour face. “Is that all men think about these days? Darkspawn, the Blight…it’s all so depressing.” She took in their disheveled clothes and sopping hair, and smiled at Alistair. “What of healthier obsessions – like breasts, tight buttocks, and wet frocks?”

Due to the soaking rain, Elissa’s sark had become nearly transparent. She rolled her shoulders under the saturated, chilly garment, and blew an irritated sigh through her lips. So preoccupied was she in her annoyance, that she nearly shrieked when she felt an icy hand cup her breast through the wet fabric. 

“Mmphmm,” said Alistair in her ear, “wet frocks.”

Elissa giggled, and drove her elbow into Alistair’s midsection. His breath _whoofed_ noisily out of his lungs. With a playful growl, he wrapped his arms around Elissa’s belly and squeezed. She turned her head to meet his eyes; Alistair quirked an eyebrow at her and mouthed, “ _Tonight?_ ”

A slow, sweet smile spread across Elissa's cheeks. " _Yes, tonight,_ " she responded.

“Huh,” said Isabela, “there’s hope for you two yet. Now, was there something else you needed from me today, Missy? A lesson, perhaps…or would you prefer I waited for your sweetheart to finish feeling you up?”

“Sorry,” said Elissa, rising. “Shall we…here?” She motioned to the smallish private salon.

“Outside, Sweet Buns,” said Isabela. “There’s no room in here. We need to spread out, some.”

The downpour beat a rapid, heavy tattoo against the salon’s one window. Elissa sighed, and gave Isabela a withering glare. “In _this_? You’re crazy!”

“Oh, it’s hardly raining!” Isabela nodded to the rather unsavory elements. “Now stop being such a cry-baby...hop to it!”

-=-=-=-=-=-

That night, after the camp's fire was banked and their traveling companions went to sleep, Elissa crept to Alistair’s tent. The bravado he had shown earlier during their tryst with Isabela had disappeared entirely. He stood naked before Elissa, trembling. His hands twitched toward her skyclad body. Wanting her desperately, Alistair stared longingly at his heart's desire. “Say the word, Elissa."

Elissa gently touched his cheek with her fingertips, and gestured to his bedroll. She twinkled at Alistair. “Come to bed with me?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “I want that very much.”

She moved to Alistair’s bedroll, and lounged back on it. She crooked her finger at her lover. “Come.”

Hesitating but for a single moment, Alistair knelt at Elissa’s feet. He crawled on hands and knees between her thighs, pressing his body to hers. Emboldened by her open arms and smiling eyes, Alistair deeply kissed his heart’s blood. His breath quickened, and his arousal became more insistent, as he ran his hands over Elissa’s body. 

When he entered Elissa, Alistair was overwhelmed by something he could not readily name – something that made his heart swell and his throat constrict. He swallowed heavily, and beheld Elissa.

“Darling,” said Alistair, “I…I'm in love with you.”

Elissa slipped her arms over Alistair’s shoulders, and pressed her forehead to his. She beamed at him, and nodded. “I know.” Elissa grinned impishly. "It took you long enough."

**Author's Note:**

> A/N the Second: I couldn’t help but wonder where the hell Alistair learned how to panther-crawl, as I witnessed what is quite possibly the creepiest-looking sex scene in the history of just about freaking everything. Thank heavens for mods and patches. My first tent-time with Ser Adorkable was with my un-modded F!Cousland, and it looked like she was possessed by fucking SATAN. I guess it’s just Alistair’s tent-time that looks so funky. The second tent-time around, my M!Amell didn’t look like he was going to kill and eat Zevran after he nailed him. I’m not even going to go into the modded extended porn-scene. Twitch. Personally, I’m still holding out for the Zev/Ali mod. :D


End file.
